Bertha Carr-Harris

Summary

Bertha Carr-Harris The White Chief of the Ottawa

Manabozo looked in his paws and found a little mud, and he took the mud and the dead body of the loon and with it created the world anew again.
"And do you believe that?" said the White Chief.
"Our tribe she believe like that," replied the Indian.
"What is that thing tied round your neck, Machecawa?" said Bearie, the second son, a short, well knit, sturdy-looking youth of eighteen, whose every expression reflected a bright, happy, generous disposition.
"She am my Manitou," replied the Indian.
"What is a Manitou? Every Indian you meet with seems to differ on the subject."
Source: Gutenberg

Bertha Carr-Harris The White Chief of the Ottawa

I am not one of those white-shirt-fronted gentlemen such as we frequently meet with here, but, thank God, I can now offer you a heart that is white, a life that is pure. Life in the woods has rubbed off any of the veneer or polish that I may have brought with me from the Old Land, and I am just as you see me, Chrissy, a plain, rough man from the wilds of the West.
Source: Gutenberg

Bertha Carr-Harris The White Chief of the Ottawa

She never felt for an instant that he was dead to her. She did not think of him with hopes that were withered, with a tenderness frozen; the man whom she loved never once became a vague, dreamy idea to her, for to Chrissy George was a living, bright reality, who would come some day to fulfil his promise, when she would at last enter into the glorious consummation of her heart's deepest longing. It was this confidence that cheered and sustained her as she became her mother's most efficient coadjutor in missions of mercy and love.
Source: Gutenberg

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